A lot of people ask me, “So, did you guys adopt because you
couldn’t get pregnant?” I think
that’s the most common conclusion in terms of adoption. (at least with
people who don’t have biological children.) And while certain aspects of our adoption and infertility
story do overlap, one was not a direct result of the other. My story of infertility and Mills’
story are two very different things and it is important to me that they stay
separate from one another.
We started trying to get pregnant seven years ago. (or ONE
HUNDRED because it feels exactly the same)
I was so clueless and naïve that I actually CALLED my
“Hi. I just wanted to let you know that my husband and I are HAVING
“When did you test positive?” The nurse wasn’t the friendliest, but I had
AMAZING news, so I was sure she’d come around.
“Oh, haha! We aren’t
pregnant yet, but we are GOING to be.
We decided to have a baby and I took that ovulation test AND got a
smiley face AND we, well, you KNOW, so….” I’m pretty sure I was giggling. Also,
I talk in extreme run on sentences when I’m excited.
(total silence) And
then, “Honey, what is it you are calling about?”
I felt a little sorry for her. And
confused. Didn’t she know
anything?? “BECAUSE we are going to have a baby. (???) Don’t you want to put it on my chart? Or have me come
in or something?”
laughter. That woman laughed at
me. “Why don’t you call me back when you get a positive pregnancy test.” (more
I was crushed. I was angry. And now, I look back and feel so sad for me… but I laugh
too. I did not know ONE SINGLE
THING about all this.
Fast forward through four years of trying and waiting and
crying and testing and SO.MANY.”NO”s.
No, you aren’t pregnant this month. No, we don’t know what
is wrong. No, insurance doesn’t cover that. Nope, still not pregnant. No, no,
And the week before my 30th birthday, I was the
one who said no. Matt and I were
sitting outside watching the sunset and I said, “Ok. I’m done. I
don’t want to look back at our life and say, ‘those were the miserable years.’ So, no more. If the
children in our lives are simply those in the families around us that will be
enough. I will be okay.” And for
the first time, I meant it.
It wasn’t one month later that my high school guidance
counselor called and said, “Amanda, I was sitting in my front room reading my
Bible and God told me to call you.” (When someone says God told them to call,
you LISTEN!) She went on to tell
me that her daughter had just adopted from an agency who needed birth parents
willing to adopt outside their race.
I listened and thanked her and that was all.
Here is what you need to know about adoption and me. Throughout the years of trying I heard
“Oh! You should adopt. You know EVERYONE
gets pregnant when they adopt.” And also, “God must not want you to have
children. You should adopt! It’s
the right thing to do.” (To me, the "right thing to do" meant driving the speed limit, flossing, recycling?) Again and
again, this was spoken over me until I began to hate the word adoption and
everything about it. It seemed like
second best. A consolation
prize. So I made a vow. I was sitting on Lolly’s floor crying
and said these very words,
“I will never buy a
baby. I WILL NEVER adopt. God would have to literally drop a baby
out of the sky and say ‘this one is yours!!’ for me to adopt.”
(I still cringe remembering those hurtful words)
You know what they say about never saying never? Yes. That.
I wish I could tell you the specifics about what happened
next. But there isn’t a logical
explanation. It simply seemed that
God came rushing in, softened my hardened heart and changed Matt’s all at
once. We were riding in the car
one day not long after my counselor called and Matt said, “Are we really going to say ‘no’ to
children because they don’t come the way we thought they would?”
And after a tornado of miracles and suddenly “YES”es, (this
is a whole other story), suddenly my son was in my arms.
This is what I can tell you now. We didn’t adopt because we couldn’t get pregnant. We couldn’t get pregnant because our
first born son was to come to our family through adoption.
Now that he is home, we know without a doubt that even
before the world began, Mills was ours.
And that, God graciously allowed enough time to pass so we would open
our hearts and walk into the plan that had always been.
It was always the plan. The first choice. And because of it, I have actually come
to treasure my years of infertility.
Isn’t it ironic? Infertility made me a mother. Not because I ran out of options, but because all
along it was the only option.